“You decided what we’re going to do about Davis?” Noah leans against the side of the Cloister, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

I take a spot next to him as he passes the smoke. Pulling in a lungful of nicotine, I hold it, then let it go in a white plume. “I’m still thinking.” I can taste the alcohol on the filter, but I already smelled it on Noah when I walked up.

He raises a bruised brow. “You’re actually considering wearing a wire?”

“Hell no.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. “I don’t narc. You know that.” I’ve been toying with the idea, even if I tell Noah otherwise. Wearing a wire would be simple, and I could catch my father saying any number of illegal things at any time. But, everything he says will also implicate Noah and me. That’s not an outcome I will accept, especially when Davis doesn’t have the authority to offer us full immunity.

“Then what?”

“I always look for a way to play both ends against the middle.” I shrug and shift from one aching foot to the next.

“You found a way to do that here?”

“Not yet.” I motion for the cigarette and take the last hit. “But I will.”

“I can’t believe that douche is FBI.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Threatening us with prison time.”

“He doesn’t have a thing on us or we’d already be busted and over a barrel. The most he’s got is me beating his ass and our breaking and entering his house—but he won’t do shit about that. It would blow his cover.”

“Right.” He scrubs a hand down his jaw, the bristles loud in the quiet night. “I guess we need to backburner him and think about Tuesday.”

“Tuesday.” I nod. “You know what to do. Just be prepared. It’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“What if…” He swallows hard. “What if it comes down to it, and I’m the one who has to… you know, kill Dad. I don’t know if I can do—”

“I’ll handle that. You just watch your back and make sure none of the Protectors get out of that room. Then we’ll fight our way to Mom. Once we’ve got her and Delilah, we’re out.”

“And after?” His light blue eyes are inscrutable as he stares at me. “What then?”

“Anything. Anything we can think of. We’ll have money and freedom. We can go wherever we want.”

“Anywhere?” His reticence gives way to a note of hope.

“Yes.” I can’t help but smile at the idea. Real freedom. “After Tuesday, we are free to have our own lives, to be different people—the people we would have been if it weren’t for this place.”

His smile is wistful. “I like the sound of that. Maybe we can move to, I don’t know, like an island or something? In the Caribbean?”

“With the money I’ve stashed, we can buy our own island if we want.”

He smiles, finally, his grin boyish and warm. “I’ll name it Noahland and give Felix and Gregory the run of the place.”

“Good to know you still have the ambitions of a sixteen-year-old.” I clap him on the shoulder and laugh when he winces. “Pussy.”

“Dick,” he mutters as Zion walks up.

Zion smirks at Noah, probably admiring the bruises he put on my brother’s face.

Once he’s inside, Noah turns to me. “Now that’s one guy I won’t mind putting down for good.”

“That’s the spirit.” I can’t deny my need to see Delilah any longer. Pushing off the wall, I stride to the door, Noah at my back. We walk the long hallway to the dormitories and separate.

When I walk in, Delilah is on her knees, her head slightly bowed. For the first time in my life, I actually feel lucky. To have a woman like this waiting for me is something I never expected, and I certainly don’t deserve it. I stride over to her and sit.

She rests her cheek on my knee, and I stroke her hair.

“What training did you get up to today, little lamb?” I feather my fingers across her neck.

“I had a special session with Miriam.”

My usual scorn for the woman churns inside me. “And what pearls of wisdom did the First Lady of Alabama have to offer?”

“She told me that even if I’m married to Evan, that my true responsibility is to the Prophet.”

I nod along. “That’s correct.”

“And as long as I serve Evan in whatever ways he wants—” My fists clench, but she continues on, “And submit to him as his wife in every way, that I’ll—”

“That’s enough.” I yank her off the floor and slam her on the bed.

She smiles as I pin her hands above her head.

Has a woman’s smile ever intrigued a man more? Not even the Mona Lisa has anything on Delilah at this moment. “Toying with me, little lamb?”

She bats her lashes. “I have to use whatever leverage I have, don’t I?”

I smirk and lower my mouth to her throat, biting hard and then licking my teeth marks. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“We all are,” she whispers.

I kiss to her ear. “Tuesday. There will be violence, blood, and chaos. I need you to stick with me, understand? Don’t put yourself in danger, but stay by my side if you can. We’re getting out of this hell. But we’ll have to pay with blood. Hopefully, not ours.”

“I’m ready.” She kisses my jaw, her soft lips warm against me, then stops.

“What?” I pull back and stare into her impossibly gray eyes.

“I… Need to ask you something.”

Foreboding whips across my soul like a harsh wind. “What?”

“Closer.” She glances toward the vent.

I let go of her hands and wrap my arms around her, pinning her to me. “Ask.”

She’s tense, so different from the playfulness just a moment ago. “Okay, I just need to… Give me a second.” She seems to wrestle with how to continue, her silence unnerving me.

Her breathing speeds up. “Um.” She shifts beneath me.

I sit up and pull her into my lap. Holding her tight, I nestle her head in the crook of my neck. I want her close, and the foreboding from earlier hits me even harder.

Goosebumps pebble her skin, and I whip her blanket up and wrap it around her.

“Thanks.” She lets out a tight breath. “Okay, did you know a…” She clears her throat and blurts out, “Do you know if your father has a book?”

“A book?”

“One that he wrote himself with different sorts of symbols in—”

“Yes, you mean the book.” I wonder who told her about it, but I don’t ask.

“Right. Have you seen it?”

“This is what you wanted to ask me about?” I don’t pretend to understand where she’s going with her questions, but something tells me she’s veering off from her main intent.

“Have you seen it?”

I let her deflect for the moment. “Rarely. He keeps it locked away, and only gets it out for special occasions.” I don’t want to elaborate on the last special occasion. My hands are still covered with blood from it, though no one else can see it but me.

“Is he the only one with access to it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

I pull her away from my ear and try to find her in the gray of her eyes. “Why are you asking this?”

“I just need to know. Are you sure no one else can…” She lets her words trail off.

I nod and pull her close again. “It’s in his desk in the house in a locked drawer. He has the only key.”

“Have you ever used it? The book, I mean?”

“Used it?” Now I’m even more lost than before. “How would I use a book full of delusional ranting and doodles?”

“To, I don’t know, copy the marks onto something or onto—”

“Someone?” Her question becomes clear. “You want to know who put the markings on Sarah?” I don’t feel like I have the right to say the girl’s name. It’s profane on my lips, as if I’m marring her more than I already have.

“Yes.”

“Only my father touches the book. It would have had to been him.”

“Not you?” I can barely hear her now. “Not ever?”

“Not me. Not ever.” I don’t let her questions sting me. She’s right to ask them. Maybe, if it weren’t for Delilah, I would have been the one to hurt Sarah by carving the marks into her skin. I’ve done so many terrible things that I can’t say for sure one way or the other.

“Good.” She finally lets go of most of her tension, melting into my arms.

“Was that all you wanted to know?” I hold her, not caring what the camera sees. Maybe my father will call me in for being too easy on my Maiden, but I’ll take the punishment.

She hesitates, then wraps her arms around my neck. “That was all.”

My soul settles, though a nagging doubt still rattles around inside me. What was her true question?

* * *

When I leave Delilah’s room, Grace is waiting in the hallway, her face pinched.

“What?” I stride past her. My feet have fucking had it for the day, but I’ll be damned if I show any weakness in front of her.

She hurries to follow me into the long hall. “Can you meet me later?”

“The fuck?” I don’t care what she wants. Nothing she says is going to change anything. I just want to get to my place, turn on the video of Delilah, smoke a joint, and fall asleep. None of that includes Grace.

She grabs my elbow, but I shake her off and enter the door code to get out.

“Wait!” She dogs my steps as I walk into the night. “Adam, please.”

I keep going.

“It’s about your mother,” she hisses.

I stop. “What did you say?”

“I need to talk to you about your mother. Tonight. Please?”

She’s playing a game. She has to be. But she’s dangled the right bait, and now I have to bite. “Why can’t you just say it now?”

She shakes her head. “Tonight. In the punishment circle. Midnight.”

I grab a handful of her dress right below her throat and shake her. “If this is some sort of stupid trick to—”

“It’s not!” she squeaks. “I swear.”

Footsteps behind me have me releasing her.

Abigail, the oldest Spinner, hurries past and enters the door code.

Grace turns her sharp eye on the woman. “What are you doing out this late?”

“Had to order some things for the larder and forgot to do it earlier.” She misses the code and tries again.

Grace gives me one more look. “Midnight,” she whispers. Then she turns and follows Abigail inside, berating her all the way.

I lean my head back and stare at the crescent moon that peers at me from behind wispy clouds. If Grace crosses me tonight, I can’t guarantee that I won’t drag her to the creek and drown her just like I’ve fantasized about a million times. Not even Delilah’s calming influence can abate the rage I have for that treacherous bitch, and I doubt anything ever will.

* * *

The moon is higher now, the clouds dissolving under its light. I keep my hands stuffed in my pockets, a pistol warming against my right palm. Leaning against a tree at the edge of the punishment clearing, I wait for Grace to show.

The ground is still scuffed in the spot where I beat Davis not that long ago, the three sturdy crosses at the edge of the clearing casting their moon shadow along the indentations in the dirt.

I can’t feel the tip of my nose, and the time is ticking past midnight. I’ve almost decided to leave when I hear an engine on the main road of the compound. The headlights are off, but I can see the black Mercedes creeping along the gravel road, the tires crunching loud in the quiet night.

When it stops, Grace exits the passenger side. I can’t see the driver, and I don’t like that one fucking bit.

She hurries to the center of the clearing, her gaze sweeping around but not finding me. I could leave now, just disappear into the night and leave her. Foolishly, I don’t.

I whistle as I step from behind a wide pine and walk to her, but I keep my peripheral vision on the car.

“You’re here.” She states the obvious like a real pro.

“What do you want?” I cast a direct glance to the sedan. “Who’s driving?”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She beams, and I can see the slightest glimpse of the innocent girl I broke so many years ago. It disgusts me. Just like I disgust me.

“Get on with it.”

She motions to the car. The engine dies, and I grip my gun tighter, pulling it to the edge of my pocket. When the door opens and Castro steps out, I pull the gun all the way, leveling it at him.

“Adam, wait.” Grace doesn’t touch me, but hovers right at my elbow as Castro shoots me a surly glare, then walks to the back door and opens it.

My hand falters and drops when my mother steps out.